


Second Chances

by sian1359



Series: Getting Back To Good [1]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Detectives, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sian1359/pseuds/sian1359
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The transition from cops to detectives is easier than coming back from nearly being dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sharpiesgal (TigerLily)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerLily/gifts).



> The story I wanted to write ended up too much for me to manage with my schedule and the exchange's. Which is why I'm listing this as the first story in a series of at least two. The second story will have Tony and the detective bits of my recipient's request. I would also like to thank the exchange's mods for pointing out I uploaded the wrong draft before I totally embarrassed myself and my beta.
> 
> Finally, paramedics can administer stitches in my version of this AU of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Despite no longer having his gold badge, one of the uniformed officers waived Phil on through upon his arrival on scene. Given he didn't know the uni, he suspected Melinda had described Lola instead of identifying who Phil had once been in the NYPD, but whether thanks to his cherry red 62 'vette or his reputation, Phil could only feel immense gratitude that he wasn't going to have to wait behind the crime scene tape with everyone else who'd rushed to see what had happened. Or worse, have to wait until the hospital to see that Clint was mostly okay.

Even so, he still had to park far enough away that he'd be feeling it, as in addition to the handful of patrol cars and the Emergency Service Squad truck, Phil noted Melinda's and, Jesus, _Jane's_ specialist ESU Bearcats, along with NYFD's contributions of fire trucks, a couple of ambulances and an EMS MERV, along with mobile command vehicles for both departments. And Laufeyson's Mercedes, if Phil was not mistaken, the department's asshole hostage negotiator preferring to make a dramatic entrance and show he was above the rest of them, when his skills got called upon.

Phil took a moment to just breathe as he shut his engine down; silently thanking Melinda again for not just taking the time out to call him about the incident, but also because she'd made sure he knew that Clint was going to be fine. Had Phil heard something _during_ the altercation, if he'd come on scene and seen not only her SWAT team had been called in, in addition to all the other elite responders, but also Jane's bomb disposal unit, he would have gone quietly mad from knowing only that Clint had walked into the wrong place at the wrong time. Now, though, no matter how significant the threat _had_ been, Laufeyson and Lieutenant Hand aside, having so many units involved meant that he and Clint were surrounded by some of their closest friends.

Along with the press, of course. Phil didn't want to think about the news teasers that might come from this; he was certain at least Velez Heimdall, WSGD's anchor, had noticed his arrival since the guy didn't miss much. He'd undoubtedly also taken note of the special treatment Phil had been granted, though Phil was a private detective now, no longer one of New York's finest.

Heimdall wasn't the only one paying attention. In the time it took Phil to maneuver his body out from behind the wheel to stand, transferring his grip from Lola's door to the cane that had been tucked between the front seats, James Buchanan, "Bucky", Barnes trotted over. That, more than anything, let Phil know that Clint was okay.

"Looking good, today, Phil," Bucky greeted him, his smile manic and his body bouncing from the excess of adrenaline still burning through his system.

Since Bucky wasn't sequestered away with his team leader and Lieutenants Hand and Blake, obviously his sniper skills hadn't been necessary to end the situation; Clint had had his own share of post mission hyperness in similar situations.

"Our boy's over there with Sam," Bucky continued, pointing toward one of the buses.

It was through Bucky that Phil had first met Clint; Bucky being the roommate and best friend of Phil's former partner when Phil had been stationed at the 18th. That Bucky was on the same SWAT team as Phil's first partner, Melinda May, had been quite the coincidence. It had been Bucky who brought along the team's newest recruit, another sniper that his team leader, Maria Hill, had poached after seeing him shoot at SniperWeek, to the apartment at the same time Phil had been visiting. It had been fortunate all around that Bucky's confidence in his own sniping abilities had led him to see Clint as a kindred spirit instead of a rival, and that Clint had thought the same.

"He's getting cleaned up while they debate whether he's going to the hospital or not."

Of course they were. Clint was not one for hospitals in general, was notorious for giving even the paramedics grief in the few instances he'd needed their care, unless he came under the hands of Sam Wilson, former Air Force pararescue, who refused to put up with that kind of shit, yet who also understood some of the quirks and qualms another former soldier might have with trust. Clint had never gone so far as to stop by the VA where Sam volunteered for any of the therapy groups, but they had come to an understanding as they'd also become friends.

"Do you know what happened?" Phil asked as they headed toward the ambulance, Bucky setting a pace Phil had little trouble matching without making it seem as if he was coddling Phil.

Bucky grinned. "Clint took down the tangos before the rest of us had a chance." He sounded proud.

Phil was too,; it hadn't just been because of Clint's unparalleled sniper skills that Maria had talked the former Marine into joining the NYPD. On the other hand, anything that ended up with Clint needing medical treatment –

"Laufeyson and Rumlow are both spitting mad that he stole their thunder."

Considering that those two were all arrogance and ego, Phil had little doubt Bucky was right about that, especially with Clint now being a civilian. Neither Phil nor Clint had felt any love for Luke Laufeyson, even before a bad call on Laufeyson's part during a hostage negotiation had resulted in Phil's forced retirement after being shot in the chest and nearly dying. Brock Rumlow was a dick in his own right, not quite a loose cannon, but he enjoyed being the first through the door when SWAT was called to breach a door as much as he did the press conferences afterward.

"How did Jane's team get involved?" Phil asked of the bomb disposal unit.

Bucky shrugged. "We were called in to deal with a botched robbery with multiple gunmen and plenty of hostages. It turns out that while one of the gunmen was playing Laufeyson, a couple of the others were setting a bomb. That's why Clint took action, by the way," he added, giving Phil a side look and then a knowing smile when Phil released a sigh and let his shoulders loosen.

Between the two of them, Bucky's reputation for reckless disregard to his own safety was actually worse than Clint's, but neither of them had ever shied away from making themselves a target if they felt it necessary. And while Phil could certainly admire such an ethos, it had made for some heart-stopping moments over the years.

Bucky laughed softly, knowing Phil too well. "You and Stevie, Phil. Lesser men might take umbrage and think you two don't trust us."

Phil refrained from making the obvious comment, as Bucky was the one with an artificial arm and Clint had lost partial hearing from a bad breach that had been as much his reason for retiring from the Force as him wanting to be there for Phil during his recovery. He simply encouraged Bucky to keep talking with a gesture toward the still cordoned building, knowing that again, similarly to Clint, Bucky wasn't good with silences if he wasn't looking through a sniper scope.

Bucky indeed gave in to his nature. "According to most of the hostages, a young kid got hysterical when he realized there was a bomb and was seconds away from being shot until Clint intervened," he continued with his explanation of what had gone down. "So Clint got in their faces when one of them threatened to 'blow the kid's fucking brains out', let himself get hit a couple of times, and managed to lift one of their handguns without anyone catching on. Then, before anyone could blink, this killer red-head lets out a scream that would scare Freddie Krueger, and in the ensuing confusion, she and Clint are knocking heads and ending up with all of the guns. From there, they moved out to take out the second group, they signaled us, and next thing you know, Rumlow gets stuck mopping up instead of playing hero, while Laufeyson doesn't get to show the cameras how much more clever he is than everyone else."

"My heart bleeds for him," Phil said in as dry a tone as he could manage, causing Bucky to nearly convulse with laughter. It took Phil a moment to catch on and, okay, even six months ago having someone laugh about him getting shot – even if they weren't laughing at him – would have killed Phil's mood and possible even soured a close friendship, but now Phil could finally see how Bucky could laugh.

"Shit, that wasn't too soon, was it?" Bucky asked as he cut himself off and looked chagrined.

"Just don't laugh about it around Clint quite yet."

"Yeah, I think Steve's more broken up about my arm than I am at this point," Bucky admitted. "And he's just my best friend, not my lover. Though speaking of which, just who is the hottie Clint's hanging out with?"

"If you don’t want to lose both arms, you should probably keep such… endearments to yourself," Phil warned, not bother to mention whether it would be Clint making Bucky eat his teeth or her. "Her name is Natasha."

"She going to be a new associate at your agency?" Bucky asked, no doubt more interested because she'd taken part in the take-down than her looks, not that those looks weren't, indeed, killer – or that Bucky didn't have a fine appreciation for lovely ladies.

"An old friend," Phil corrected, " _childhood_ friend," he added when Bucky waggled an eyebrow although he knew, as well as Phil did, that Clint wasn't the type to stray. Yes, Clint had had the kind of relationship with her that Bucky had implied, but long before Clint and Phil had even met. What they were to each other now was closer than lovers or even siblings, was almost like what Phil had seen between twins, not that Phil wanted to explain all of that, even if it was his story to tell.

Not that Phil wanted to do anything now as they rounded the vehicle, other than clutch at Clint – or scold him. To simply collapse with relief from seeing him sitting in the back of the ambulance, eyes closed and his head tilted so that Sam could finish the neat line of stitches suturing closed a deep cut across Clint's cheek. Clint's shirt had been loosened at some point, was not fully rebuttoned, and Phil could see already darkening flesh to match the burgeoning bruising under the cut that most likely had come from a backhand or a gun butt.

Pissing off people he probably shouldn't was a skill right up there with Clint's ability to shoot.

"I'm fine, Phil," Clint spoke up without opening his eyes. Or flinching as Sam continued his work.

The cane helped Phil's gait, but had also changed it, had made it distinctive enough for someone even less trained than Clint to have identified him by it.

"Stop talking or this is going to come out crooked," Sam chided Clint, while tossing Phil a nod in greeting. "You _will be_ fine," he added. "But only if you take it easy for a couple of days and give yourself a break instead of throwing yourself into some new mess."

"I did not throw myself into _this_ mess," Clint protested over Bucky's snort. "It threw itself onto me – "

Sam grabbed his chin and gave him a little shake. "Stop. Talking. There are only two more stitches required, for god's sake. Even you can sit still for that long."

Under anyone else's hand, Phil knew Clint would be scowling and glaring outright; were it anyone other than Bucky who was basically laughing at him, Clint would be reacting even worse. But it was Sam and Bucky, good friends both, and instead, Clint ducked his newly released chin and gave Sam – and Phil – a look of contrition, complete with the tips of his ears turning pink.

Bucky he flipped off. With both hands.

Sam finished in the next few moments and looked up at Phil when he was done. "He's all yours. Nothing's obviously broken, but he should get his face and ribs x-rayed to make sure there aren't any hairline fractures. You should also get yourself a 'script for heavy duty pain relief," he directed back at Clint. "Yeah, I know, you're a tough guy and won't take any unless you're forced to, but if you want to actually be able to sleep, you're going to need something more than a cap of Tylenol or Ibuprofen, trust me."

"You know I do, Sam. And I've gained a new appreciation for what being tough really means," Clint admitted, his eyes cutting over to Bucky's arm and then coming to rest on Phil.

"Yeah, nothing says bad-ass mother fucker like coming back from the dead," Sam agreed.

It was Phil's turn to redden from embarrassment. As far as he was concerned, he'd been everything but tough during his recovery, especially in comparison with Bucky, who'd lost his left arm, got through the depression and rehab and then returned to his job sporting a cutting edge prosthetic from Stark Industries all in the nine months of Phil's recovery while he could only celebrate getting out of bed without assistance.

"Are you two joining us at Fury's tonight?' Sam asked as he started sorting through what he'd taken out but hadn't used, what needed to go into the sharps container or the hazard bag, and noting what he'd need to replace.

Meeting for drinks at The Shield had become a post major bust ritual started back when Nick Fury had still been a detective at the 18th and the bar had been owned by Dum Dum Dugan.

"I'm not going to make any promises," Phil started, torn because he knew their friends would want to check up on Clint, but feeling quite selfish right now at even the idea of having to share him with Natasha.

"If you do, you know the drill. Don't mix drugs and alcohol, let Phil drive if you do take your drugs, and stay away from the pool table and the dart boards until you can straighten up without wincing." Sam then rose and reached down to help Clint to his feet, just smirking when Clint flinched instead of vocalizing the protest he'd geared up to give. Sam gestured next to Bucky, who approached and took Clint's arm across his shoulder so the three of them could head back toward Lola and leave Sam to his clean up.

First, though, Phil stepped in front of them and raised his left hand so he could touch Clint, could cup his cheek in an expression of his relief and fear and all of his love. Clint leaned into the touch and for a moment they just stood there and savored being together. Phil then dropped a light kiss to Clint's nose first and then his lips before taking a step back, not out of any sense of propriety (if the two of them kissing pissed certain people off that could only be considered a bonus), but in consideration to Bucky, who was being pretty patient and awfully quiet, and because Phil wouldn't want to stop just at kissing.

"So, the red-head," Bucky asked once they started walking.

"Sure, Bucky," Clint said with a laugh. "Let me introduce you to the girl of your dreams."

– finis –


End file.
